


The Five Stages of Grief

by NotJustFeet



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotJustFeet/pseuds/NotJustFeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the AvengerKink meme, 5 drabbles dealing with Clint's grief for Coulson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Denial

He listens to Natasha talking, her voice like the buzzing of an errant fly. He refuses to allow the words to make sense, refuses to let them sink into his aching head. Loki's possession is gone now, and any minute now, Coulson is going to walk into the room. He'll have that quirk to his lips that he only wears for his lover, and he'll tell Clint that everything is going to be fine. And while he feels guilty over the deaths of other SHIELD personnel, he can't be guilty about Coulson. He can't be dead. He just can't be.


	2. Anger

The burn of the brandy as it goes down his throat matches the burn of the anger in his veins. Amorphous, his rage scalds him, directed at nothing and no-one, just an all consuming fire that threatens every inch of his self control. Clint wants the luxury of exploding at someone, picking a fight for the least of reasons. But /he/ wouldn't have wanted that, and though the rage hurts, and his tongue aches to deliver the scathing words that would tear the Avengers apart, he holds back. Anger is his boon companion now, but it's never at the dead.


	3. Bargaining

Just ten more shots, Hawkeye thinks to himself. He is perched up in a clock tower, watching as the team take apart the lizardman invasion. Absently he nocks, draws and looses, and another eye sprouts an arrow. Nine more shots, he thinks to himself. The ache is getting less now, but there is still a hole where his heart should be. Another twang, and it's eight more shots. Seven, six, five, four three, two, and one. And as he watches his friends catching their breath, and the civilians starting to raise their heads, his count, his bargain, is still unfinished.


	4. Depression

"Chocolate chip, or honey?" Steve asks him. Clint knows that he hasn't been good company recently, knows that he's being avoided. Each member of the team has a perfectly sensible reason for keeping their distance, even Fury is less furious. He can't bring himself to dislike them for it, after all, why would anyone want to spend time with him now? Except Steve. Captain America isn't obnoxious, isn't demanding, but his presence is nearly a comfort. For minutes at a time, Clint can feel nearly like his old self again. The dark clouds lift a little, to show the light.


	5. Acceptance

"I still miss you," Clint says gently, the dew on the grass chilling his skin where it seeps through his jeans. The sprigs of holly in his hands prickle his fingers, but he rather thinks Phil would have liked them. The gravesite is quiet, tucked away in the countryside. No grand statues for these heroes, no ornate marker to show their last resting place, just a simple cross of marble. He still finds himself turning to speak, to snark. He still listens for those tones over the comms. The absence no longer a disappointment though. Clint still has his memories.


End file.
